Text Me When You Walk Out
by apollo-gize
Summary: AU: Your name is Dave Strider, and you DJ in clubs in the downtown strip. Being around all the women and alcohol can lead you to doing some things you regret, certainly, but eventually it goes too far. TWOSHOT. Implied Dave/John, Dave/John.
1. Sample

**Text Me When You Walk Out**

**I blame too much EDM and gratuitous amounts of remixes.**

**AU - DJ!Dave - Implied Dave/John (one sided?) - EDM = Electronic Dance Music (Electronica, House, Dubstep, etc)**

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><p>Your name is Dave Strider, and ever since you were old enough to grab at Bro's turn tables, you've wanted to be a DJ of some kind. At least that's what you remember.<p>

Only 19 years later, and you've somewhat completed that goal. You DJ in nightclubs, and have once, and only once, been invited to a music festival of any sort. So here you are; in the biggest club the downtown strip has to offer, and you are making such sweet music any and all prodigious EDM artists would weep at the sound. You are still the small time "Godhead", and it's nothing glorious or really to be proud of, but it still feels good.

You might DJ for shitty venues, but even the shittiest of venues have their perks. Free booze, decent pay, and the fans, specifically the girls. Oh, the girls. So drunk, so in love with you, and so, so tempting.

You resist the urge.

Always. You have to, because there is someone who loves you much more than any hammered groupie ever could. He knows you, and not just by your music or by your devilishly good looks.

So you abstain.

Once before, you kissed a very drunk fan on the mouth, while also being very drunk, and felt horrible about it. You texted him immediately after, and apologized, voice shaking a little. You felt awful.

He just laughed and told you it was okay, that he really wasn't mad, and he just wanted you to text him when you walked out.

That's what he always told you.

"Text me when you walk out."

He trusts you even when you're drunk, alone, in a skanky nightclub stuffed to the gills with sloshed fangirls.

It happens once, it happens twice, and it happens again. You end up having sex with one of them, and you've never been more disappointed in yourself.

The kicker is that he always forgives you, not matter how much it must hurt him. It must hurt him a lot, but he trusts you so much. He always tells you he loves you, and always, always;

"Text me when you walk out."

Sometimes you wish he didn't trust you so much.

Especially tonight.

You end your set mixing a grand total of 45 songs into one, live, and it's so gorgeous Madeon would look like a fool compared to you. As the applause ends, you hop off the stage, letting the stage crew get to work. You reach for your phone. It shouldn't be long until you're home and holding him in your arms, but a small flock of girls stops you.

They giggle and laugh and tell you how much they love you, Godhead, the Turntech Godhead (though you no longer use your turntables as much, as they are a thing of the past, so now it's ironic). They grab your arms and pull you toward the bar, buy you a drink, and suddenly you forget your objective.

Soon, it's all lost in an alcoholic haze.

One of the girls is in your lap, breasts pressed erotically against your chest, her hands leading yours up and down her body. Usually, you never go this far. You usually resist the urge, and manage to pull away to go home.

You fail to resist the urge.

Before you know it, you've gone too far.

You wake up in unfamiliar, pink cheetah print bedsheets, and you are ever so silently freaking the fuck out.

She's in the shower, and you make a real dick move. You collect your underwear, pants, shirt and shades before sloppily putting your shoes on and getting the hell out.

You feel awful, and it's not just the hangover. You pull out your iPhone, and there's a gratuitous amount of voice mails and texts. He must be worried sick, but he can't feel as sick as you do, right now. You flag down the first taxi you see, tell him exactly where to go, and to step on it.

You've kept him waiting long enough.

You wrench the door open, and practically burst in.

John's sitting at your little kitchen table, dressed, his hair still damp from a shower, with a coffee mug in his hands. He looks up, and his blue eyes look misty with hurt. He takes look one look at you, and he covers his mouth with his hand and looks away. It's so obvious. There's absolutely nothing you can do to hide it.

John's eyes flicker up to you, and he asks how far it went.

You suddenly find the scuffs and stains on your Chuck Taylors incredibly interesting.

You hear him choke back a sob, and you take a step forward to try and explain yourself. He gets up too, and walks over to you, and shushes you halfway through. John is crying, just a little bit, and he tells you it's okay, that it wasn't really your fault, and that he knows it was an accident.

He tells you he's just sorry he couldn't have been to see you at all. You don't say anything, because you know that John works harder than both of you, juggling med school along with a shitty job at an electronics retailer. John puts his arms around you, and you tentatively put your hands around him too.

He laughs and says you smell like cigarettes, sweat, cheap perfume, and that you really need a shower.

John has forgiven you again, and you have no idea why, except for the fact that you know he loves you.

And you love him, don't you?

Of course you do.

But others would argue that you don't, or you never did.

It could easily be argued that you were an unfaithful philanderer, void of good judgment and bestowed with a love of boozing it up with unfamiliar women.

You wake up slightly hung over in another strange bed. The sheets are lime green with dainty white polka dots, and a girl sleeps topless beside you.

The guilt grips at your throat, and once again, you abscond from yet another townhouse. You don't even bother checking your cell; John must be worried sick, and you have to get home as soon as possible.

The cab ride seems to take forever.

You fumble with your keys, jerk the door open, and announce your arrival.

There is silence, and the air smells stale.

You wander about your apartment looking for John. You call out his name, and search for notes or clues to where he's gone.

You step into the room you share with John, and as soon as you see the closet, your heart plunges.

The majority of his clothes are gone, and so are his textbooks, his computer, along with some of the movies and CDs.

You immediately fish your iPhone out of your pants pocket.

There are a few messages from John, but the newest text only has one line.

"Walking out."

It's very clear that John is gone, and he probably won't be coming back. He walked out on you because you let him, because you chose to sleep with drunk floozies instead of simply being with him.

Because you couldn't just text him one stupid phrase and get home on time.

You have never regretted anything more.

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><p><strong>I will not deny that DaveJohn is my OTP of some sort.**

**I'm just a horrible person and cannot help writing situations when it doesn't work out.**

**I imagine Dave to have horrible judgment in a situation where he's surrounded by people who want in his pants, and he would inadvertently cheat on the person he cares about most.**

**And goddammit I worked the stupid "Everyone is Bi" trope into this. My apologies.**

**R&Rs never necessary, but always appreciated! **


	2. Remix

**Text Me When You Walk Out (Remix)**

**Woah, holy crap, it's a two-shot now? Neat. Thank you Zouza, oXWinterWonderXo, Red Lips, sleepyalice, and GearTheAlchemist, as well as you sneaky anons for your reviews!**

**AU - DJ!Dave - Actual Dave/John this time woooo**

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><p>Your name is John Egbert, and for the past month and a half, you have been living with your friend from med school, Karkat Vantas, and his girlfriend, Terezi Pyrope.<p>

A month and a half ago, you walked out on the love of your life, Dave Strider.

It was complicated, and Karkat really didn't want to hear about it, but you told him anyway. He had reluctantly held you while you choked back sobs on his shoulder, all the while reminding you that he was not a homosexual and loved Terezi very much.

Throughout your stay with Karkat and Terezi, there is a succinct lack of two things in your life; the pulsing beats of electronic dance music and a DJ that would normally produce the hypnotic sound. Karkat had told you over and over again while reading over med school notes together that he didn't consider electronic music, music. It used to get you a little mad, how he could say it so flippantly, and how he used to turn off your iPod because he said it was distracting to him.

Now, you don't mind as much.

You're really glad he doesn't like that genre of music because it just reminds you of Dave.

Having to leave Dave in the way you did hurt you more than it hurt him, and you know it.

But did it even affect him at all?

You casually wonder how many more girls Dave has slept with in your absence. Your heart twists, because you know he's probably had more one night stands in the past month than the average DJ.

You shake the thought away as you circle something in your text book and scribble something down in your notebook as you listen to the classical music pour out of Karkat's room.

Then, one night at dinner, Terezi makes a proposition.

She says that DJ QQ is playing at a local club, "The Hub", and she wants you and Karkat to go with her. (More specifically, she bought the tickets for you and her, and wanted her boyfriend to join the both of you, but she really does want to cheer you up.)

Terezi knows you like nightclubs, but more importantly, knows you like the music that goes with it. She practically begs you to, because she knows you really do want to go. She knows you love DJ QQ, and she wants you to be happy again.

Karkat must be in on it too, because he says yes, which comes as a bit of a surprise. He and Terezi must have noticed how depressed you've been acting. You've never been good at hiding your emotions, and feel badly for making them worry about you.

So you say yes.

Inside the club it smells like smokers, booze, cheap perfume, and ultimately, Dave after a long night.

You don't want to admit you miss him, but more importantly, you don't want Karkat or Terezi to worry, especially tonight.

The pre-show music blares, and it's some basic techno- along the lines of "Sandstorm" or something.

You and Terezi are eager to get to the dance floor, but before you both go, Karkat asks if you want anything to drink.

The scent and flavor of alcohol, for the last six and a half months, has left a foul taste in your mouth.

You decline, and just tell him to get you some soda or something, while Terezi eagerly takes up his offer for a fru-fru drink.

Karkat goes, and even though you try to convince Terezi to wait for her boyfriend, she gives her signature cackle, and pulls you into the crowd with her.

You both dance foolishly to the dubstep while couples gyrate and grind around you, and you find yourself in peals of laughter with her. You've never been more thankful for Terezi Pyrope in your entire life.

The song ends, and you can hear Karkat swearing as he pushes through the crowd, as he hands you a cold bottle of ginger ale, and Terezi something that smells frightfully of maraschino cherries and flavoring. Right then, the crowd hushes, then roars as the lights go out, the artificial glow of glowsticks becomes brighter, and the spotlight snaps on.

DJ QQ practically leaps onstage, and the screaming escalates. He commands the crowd, motioning in a "give me more" motion with his hands, drinking it all in.

You have to say that Dave never had that kind of presence. He was far too cool for that.

Kyusuke Kyumine is a positively wild looking man; his long, ponytailed hair is a bright magenta, streaked with blues, greens and yellows, and his eyes appear to be that same magenta, contrasted by black sclera. Terezi comments on how great his hair looks; Karkat comments on how it's all going to fall out. You just wonder if all great DJs of late have strange eye colors.

The dancing seems to go on forever, and is peppered with brief, short water breaks so you don't collapse from dehydration.

QQ plays an amazing set. Mixes of De Rosnay and Auge, Bangaltar and Christo, Rivoire, Zimmerman, Moore; but his own beats stand out, defined by their almost phantasmagorical sounds. You have to remember to thank Terezi again before the night ends.

The crowd roars as the sick beats fade into nothing, the lights follow suit; when they come back on, QQ is gone, and only stage crew remain to clean up.

Terezi cackles her signature laugh, and asks you if you were glad you came out, to which you answer with a hearty yes. Even Karkat looks like he's enjoyed himself. The nightclub is still buzzing with activity but with the main attraction gone, and your body sore from idiotic dancing, the three of you decide to start heading back.

The three of you make it to the bar before Terezi stops you both, and announces that she has to go to the bathroom. You and Karkat look at each other before he sighs and says that he's going to go with her, and for you to stay at the bar.

So you stay. You're watching the neon bob in the low light, listening to the bass thump, before being jolted from your reverie. You stumble, as someone has basically thrown their entire body weight against you.

You turn to admonish the offender, but the words don't make it out of your mouth. In fact, they're terminated before they're even formed.

It's Dave.

Dave is leaning against you, laughing his ass off, sunglasses askew, most likely completely hammered. You want to get angry and shove him off, but something stops you. Dave he notices what he's doing, and he straightens up right away, turning to face you as he apologizes.

When he sees that's it you, he looks shocked, his shades slipping partially down his nose.

Dave pushes them up in a hurry, and repairs his facade.

He asks you if you want a drink.

You ask how many girls he's fucked.

Yeah, sure, it's not really the nicest response, but you _deserve_ to be angry. All that pent up frustration has got to come out sometime.

Dave's expression doesn't change.

He tells you he hasn't slept with anyone. He hasn't slept with any girls.

Dave tells you he doesn't want anyone except you.

Your heart plunges, because you want to believe him more than anything, but you just can't.

So you tell him that.

And then you go. You shouldn't keep Karkat and Terezi waiting.

Even with all the neon reflecting off of Terezi's glasses, you can tell that she's in just as much shock as you are. She looks at you like she's done something awful, leading you into meeting up with Dave. That was not part of her plan at all.

You tell her that everything's fine, because there was no way of guessing that he would actually be there.

She seems a bit relieved, and tells you that she wants to go clubbing with you again.

You tell her the feeling is very mutual as you take her and Karkat by their shoulders into a half-hug.

However, over the next few days, there's another feeling that crawls under your skin and courses through you with every pulse of your heart.

You miss Dave. You do. Come to think of it, you've realistically been missing him this entire don't want to admit it. You really don't want to admit it when Karkat tells you straight out that you're downright _pining_ for Dave, and that it's bad for you and you should really stop.

You curse your luck, but at the same time, you replay the bar scenario in your head over and over, and you can't stop. You begin to think that sole encounter is going to drive you insane. You decide to cut EDM out of your life for a while, because it is reminding you more and more of Dave every time you hear a sample, the hum of synthesizers and the scratch of vinyl. When Madeon comes on the radio, you have change it to National Public Radio, because for some reason, you are incredibly flustered.

Terezi agrees with Karkat, but she's definitely more sympathetic towards you.

You are pining, and no matter how much you don't want to admit it, it's true.

So, one night, when you're about to crash on your bed, you notice a piece of paper folded up on your pillow. It's obviously been ripped off of a bulletin board or telephone post somewhere, because a large chunk at the top is missing, but it's the contents below that really matter.

It's a flier for a show at the club, Wilder's, but it's just not for any old band or DJ. It's the Turntech Godhead, Dave Strider.

It advertizes for a show the next evening.

The teal ink at the bottom, in Terezi's signature scribble reads merely:

_M4YB3 YOU SHOULD GO :?_

Your mouth feels dry, but your hands get sweaty at the prospect of seeing Dave again, for real.

You don't even have to consider it. You're going.

So when you tell Karkat you're going out (by yourself, which you hardly ever do), he scowls at Terezi knowingly. She just cackles, tells you to have a good time and not to mack on too many cute boys.

Wilder's is just like any other club, and it's actually pretty routine. Hang out, drink something, wait for the DJ to show up. You know the drill. You flip open your cellphone to check the time, and begin to move closer to the stage where Dave will be in a very short time.

When Dave finally appears, half the club (mostly females, you begrudgingly notice) goes wild. He gives a signature cool kid nod to the crowd, and begins his set. You watch as he messes with his sequencers, and when he looks up, you notice him stop for a second. The music skips a bit, spelling out D-A-N-C-E for a little longer than originally intended.

As Dave's boyfriend, you know his usual set, so when he deviates from it, you can immediately tell. He's doing something different. The crowd doesn't seem to notice, but you do. He plays "You Know Who You Are" before the end.

You notice especially because it's your mix, your song. "You Know Who You Are" is something Dave remixed for you when you both were still in high school, but it's something he would play when you were able to make it to one for his shows, as a bit of a thank you. You bite your lip when you hear part of "How Do I Live" somehow unironically mixed in with the electronic beats.

You stare at him from the sea of dancing people, and he seems to stare back.

The Dave apologizes.

At first, it's just through song. It's a new mix, and it's obviously meant to make amends, but it's Dave style; not sappy or lame at all. He's having the song apologize for him, through the voices of other men and women, and as the song ends, he picks up the mic.

"I'm sorry, but I'll text you when I walk out this time, okay?"

He points into the crowd, straight at you.

You're stunned. Somehow this means more than any other apology you've ever gotten from Dave, and somehow, half the people standing in front of you believe it's aimed at them.

His set continues, but for some reason, you don't feel like you can stand any longer. You make your way to the bar, and wait out the set.

You don't have to bother looking for Dave, because he comes straight to you, even ignoring some very excitable fans that any other day he would have stopped to address.

The first thing he tells you is that he hasn't slept with anyone since the day you left with, and you are the only person he has wanted since.

Dave tells you he's not going anywhere without you, and that he's sorry. He really is.

You bite your lip again, and your eyes sting, because part of you still wants to be angry at him, but .you can't seem to bring yourself to.

You tell him you missed him.

He tells you he's missed you too.

You're suddenly shying away from him, looking at anything but his face, but he catches you, and cups your chin in his hand so you have to look at him.

Then he kisses you, and you feel at home again. He asks you to come back with him. You can't be angry anymore.

You text Terezi one thing;

"walking out. with dave".

You don't think you could ever regret this decision.

And you don't.

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><p><strong>everything is edm and nothing hurts<strong>

**but yeah! I tend to start reaaaally strong and then it just kinda goes ka-put :/**

**ps- all those artists are real people, minus QQ, who is based off of a Yume Nikki Fanart of Kyukyu-kun.**

**pps- this is also the longest thing I have written this far**

**But if this has not persuaded you;  
><strong>

_**This is the power of a review!**_

**I was originally planning a one-shot, yet here we are.**

**As always, R&Rs always appreciated, never necessary! **


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